Foul Play
by shattered petal
Summary: "I'm a terrible liar, aren't I?" -HistuMatsu


**Title**: Foul Play  
**Genres**: Angst/Romance  
**Rating**: T  
**Couple**: HitsuMatsu

* * *

'I'm a terrible liar, aren't I?'

'What's a liar to you?'

'Someone who is too weak to tell the truth.'

'Do you think you're weak?'

'... Yes. Do you think I am?'

No. No, he does not. Many have approached him, either fallen to their knees in surrender or refused to admit defeat. Many have passed him, trembling in his wake or pretending. Playing the game. Tōshirō knows what weak is. Weak isn't where the victim falls. Weak is where the victim refuses to stand and walk forwards. He has seen weak, is used to weak, but he only has eyes for strength. Strength to realise one's faults, strength to allow the heart to shatter, strength to _accept_. Both were familiar with strength, neither have expressed surrender. Both broken, fragile, _immune_.

Death dances in her eyes.

'You are the strongest person I know.'

A cold, strong hand rests lightly on her shoulder. The cold zap of energy embraces her body, trapping her there, and he is all around her. It shocks her how old he appears, how his touch makes her flesh tingle, and she is locked in his gaze. Emerald eyes bright, furious, a monster within waiting to pounce. And yet, he is calm, soothing, soft. For her, the monster is caged, and the blade is sheathed. The war ceases when she enters his presence.

The hand at her shoulder squeezes and suddenly she wishes for him to hold her. Although he might freeze her to death, chill her bones, all she wants is his arms around her. _How pathetic; how __**weak**_. She disgusts herself, her fickle, selfish mind is revolting. Yet, if she turns around, all that waits is a pit, all that waits is Hell itself, beckoning her closer and closer. Grinning. Laughing. Laughing at her miserable, pointless soul. She is _nothing_.

Never has she witnessed this man look so gentle. It saddens her that she has only seen violence and blood from him, only witnessed him throw his body at swords, watched him slowly, _ever so slowly_, bring himself to insanity. From the beginning, he was too powerful for his age, and, after so many years, she fears his abilities are still much to handle. She underestimates him, cares for him _too much_, _so much_. His health is the centre of her attention, his heart is her own, for his must beat and beat, keep him alive, must, must keep him alive.

'Say something,' his voice is as light as his gaze.

And she cannot speak. What is there to say? It's so clear why she has arrived, why she has confronted him. Countless times, he has asked if she is okay, if she is all right. Countless times, she has smiled and claimed to be well. Countless times, she has _lied_. Countless times, Tōshirō has seen the lie, let his heart shatter a little more, before turning around and leaving her be. _He knows her too well_. Rangiku has never been good with counting the days, never associated herself with time. Time is like a child, energetic, full of life, and then it runs away when one doesn't look. By the time one looks back, it is already too late; the damage is done.

So she doesn't know how long she's been under his command, been by his side, watched his back. She doesn't know when he started to grow, when his shoulders broadened, when his smile widened, when his eyes glowed, when he started to look down at her. _Don't grow up too fast, Captain_. Yet, the damage is done. Time has ran away, and she fails to catch up. _Don't slip away from me so soon_. Tōshirō isn't used to situations like this, he can only guess, can only try and play along.

'What are you thinking about?'

She doesn't know anymore. Thousands of thoughts have fluttered through her mind, but none of them make sense. If she could stop thinking, if only for a minute. _Death, you, everything. Being alone_. Looking at him, she knows he is trying. It is cruel and harsh of her to approach him like this, to challenge his pride, to challenge his dignity and respect for her. Alone, without him, she realises she is very lonely. In a crowd, without him, she is isolated.

Two muscular arms wrap around her waist, and she shivers, pressing one side of her face against his chest. It is the sound of his heart beat she clings to, and she almost stops breathing, as if in fear his heart might suddenly stop, and he would fall, leave her. Icy wings have her cocooned, a shield, armour, and she finally feels relaxed, content. The thoughts cease, the images burn, and she closes her eyes, holding onto the fabric of his clothes. All she wanted was his embrace, all she wanted was to know he was there, that he _is_ there. _Here_.

Rangiku is a sea of mystery, and yet she is an open book to this man.

The terrors pour out, the nightmares and fears. He is her remedy, her cure, a gradual, but patient knight. Hitsugaya moves an arm, rests a hand at her cheek, runs a thumb across a scar, and she sees his smile. Despite everything, his smile is warm, happy, and his eyes are playful. The image of his face is one she'll always remember; it is the first time he has ever appeared _human_, ever appeared right and wonderful. She's waited for that smile for far too long.

Words aren't required. They never have been between them. He understands and knows why she has arrived, why she has come to him, and not anyone else. He knows why she trusts him wholly, and he understands why he trusts her too. Rangiku frowns at him slightly, wishing she could smile with him, but she shan't lie again. She shan't smile.

And he kisses her. His lips are chapped, cold, firm, but gentle. Rangiku doesn't feel shock or confusion. She feels a numbness, yet a blissful state. They kiss once, and he pulls away slightly, breath tickling her nose. 'Why are you so quiet?' He whispers, the smile still evident, still playful. She thinks, has he waited for this, waited for her? 'You're never quiet.'

There is no reason for her to speak. To him, she can remain silent and he'll know. He'll know what troubles her, what she requires, what continues to haunt her. _He knows_. They kiss again, and he leans forwards, the chill of his body merely cooling the fire blazing within her. Their kiss is longer, and is reluctantly broke again, yet his lips still brush over her own. One more kiss, a confirmation, a confession, and she returns his affections.

The tables are turned at such a cruel moment. He is smiling, he is happy, and she thinks he is a fool.  
Because even though she is a mess, he is still willing to fix her. Even if it takes him an eternity.

* * *

**author's note**: Sometimes I get an idea and I end up writing whatever comes to my head. Honestly, I have no idea what stirred me to write this. I feel a little self-conscious, to be honest, but shan't remove this because I worked hard on it. Thank you for reading; reviews are nice, however I shan't push you to leave feedback. Until next time.


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